


Magic Penny

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: Magic Series [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Post TSbyBS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: After an accident leaves Blair unable to remain Jim's partner, a new opportunity appears.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all of us who grew up in bedrooms covered in horse posters, read Walter Farley, Marguerite Henry, Dorothy Lyons and C.W. Anderson, asked for a horse at every birthday, spent summers at horseback riding camp, and mucked stalls in return for riding lessons.
> 
> An unfinished work in the same universe as "Magic Act". Found it on my hard drive and decided it was good enough to merit being posted.

Blair Sandburg strode angrily into the loft, ignoring the pleas of his partner, Jim Ellison, to slow down. He flung his cane across the open space in disgust, then limped into his room. Depositing his coat on the bed, Blair returned to the kitchen and began banging pots and pans. 

"Chief, you don't have to cook tonight. We can order something in." Jim entered the kitchen, but stayed out of the way of the rampaging guide.

Blair slammed a skillet down on the stove. "Fine. What do you want?" He reached for the phone on the counter, but Jim's fingers closed around his wrist before he could pick it up.

"I want you to tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling, right now." That was a new one for Jim, wanting to know what Blair felt. For a moment Blair nearly let go of his anger, but decided he needed it to get through the next few moments.

Blair lifted his head, his eyes boring into Jim's blue ones. "What I feel right now? I feel angry. I feel cheated." He pulled his badge out of his hip pocket and slapped it on the counter. "I feel like this was a waste of time. All those weeks at the academy, all that training to be your partner, all the things I gave up, were for nothing!" He threw the folder across the room. "What good am I to you now? You heard what the police physician said. They won't certify me for field duty. All I'm good for now is sitting behind a desk. I can't be your partner, your guide, that way!" He felt the tears he'd managed to hold back since the doctor had given his prognosis begin to spill over. Swiping at his eyes, he said, "Look, Jim, just order whatever you want. I'm not very hungry, and right now, I'm not very good company. I just need some time to process, you know?" 

Jim simply nodded, and Blair figured he didn't trust himself with words at the moment. Limping out of the kitchen, Blair entered his room, closed the door, and flopped down on the bed. The thing he'd thought he'd prepared for, the worst case scenario, had happened.

* * *

Jim finished calling in the pizza order and hung up the phone. Turning around, he gazed at the closed doors to his partner's room, stretching out his hearing to pick up the slightly elevated heartrate and raspy breathing of his friend. He knew Blair was probably crying, but there was nothing Jim could do to comfort him, nothing he could do to make things any better. In fact, he'd probably made things worse earlier, on the way home from the clinic, by bringing up the subject of another operation. Blair had adamantly refused. He'd been through enough pain and suffering, he'd argued. Surely, as his friend, Jim wouldn't want him to go through any more, would he? 

Opening the refrigerator, Jim pulled out a beer, twisted the cap off, and took a long swallow. Of course he didn't want to put Blair through any more pain, but Jim hadn't wanted Blair to give up without exploring every option. His partner had pointed out that he'd had the same operation three times without success. The odds were heavily in favor of a fourth surgery being a flop as well. 

Sighing, Jim leaned against the counter, closing his eyes. It still seemed impossible that all of this had stemmed from an accident, a stupid accident. It was what, November now? And the accident had happened in March, almost a year to the day Blair had accepted the offer to become a detective. 

It had been the last freezing rain of the season, more like sleet, really. Jim had just parked the truck outside the loft, and they were headed across the street. Sandburg had slipped on a patch of ice and fallen, twisting his knee. He'd laughed it off and limped up the stairs, even protesting when Jim had insisted he ice it.

Blair hadn't protested the next morning, though, when he'd woken up to find it swollen to nearly three times its normal size. Jim had rushed him to the emergency room, and the orthopedist on duty had admitted Blair to the hospital. His left knee had been operated on for the first time the next morning. He'd had two more surgeries over the summer and months of physical therapy. Now, nine months later, Blair could finally walk unaided, albeit with a pronounced limp. He only used a cane when he was extremely tired, as he had been tonight. Running was out of the question and, according to the Cascade PD, so was continuing as Jim's partner.

Simon had done all he could, but he'd run out of favors as far as Blair Sandburg was concerned. And really, it was unrealistic of Jim to think the PD would give Blair any kind of special consideration. They didn't know about the Sentinel thing. As far as they were concerned, Blair had been an asset to the force in the field, and they couldn't see why he couldn't continue doing good work from behind a desk. 

Jim sighed. Maybe he should consider early retirement. He had enough time in at both the Army and the PD to get him somewhat of a pension, though nothing like what he would get if he put in a full twenty years on the force. The phone ringing interrupted his musing. 

"Hello."

The voice on the other end of the line was feminine. "Hi, Jim, this is Tracy. Is Blair home?"

"Yeah, Tracy, hold on." Putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, Jim carried it with him as he walked to Blair's room. Knocking on the door, he said, "Blair, Tracy's on the phone. You wanna take it?"

"Yeah, just a second," came the muffled reply. He heard sniffling and the sound of Blair blowing his nose, then the door opened a crack and a hand reached out. Jim deposited the phone, the hand withdrew, and the door shut again.

Shaking his head, Jim went back to the kitchen and began to set the table. If anyone could put Blair in a good mood, it was her. "Thank god for Tracy Whitman," Jim said under his breath. Blair had met the young woman over the summer, in of all places, physical therapy. She had been undergoing treatment on her arm, having broken it falling off a horse. Blair had always been an incurable flirt, but he never really expected anyone to take him seriously. When Tracy did, Blair had opened up to her, and they had been inseparable ever since, though Jim wasn't really sure if they were anything more than good friends. And in truth, it didn't matter. She made Blair laugh, and smile, and both those things had been in short supply ever since the accident. 

She was okay, Jim had decided the first time he had seen her and Blair together, even if she did have kind of a weird job. He'd never met anyone who made their living riding horses around a show ring. Horse shows ranked right up there with dog shows in Jim's mind, as a waste of good air time on ESPN. 

A knock on the door kept Jim from eavesdropping on Sandburg's conversation. It was their pizza. Jim was shutting the door, pizza in hand, when Blair appeared from his room, the phone still pressed to his ear. "I gotta go, Tracy. The pizza's here. Yeah, okay, see you tomorrow at seven. Bye." He clicked the cordless phone off and set it on the counter.

Jim placed the box in the middle of the table as Blair retrieved a beer from the fridge. "I hope I didn't just hear you making plans for tomorrow night. We have those Jags tickets, remember?"

Blair sat down at the table and slid a slice of gooey pizza onto his plate. "Yes, I remembered. Tracy's picking me up tomorrow morning. She wants me to go to an auction with her." He eyed the slab of cheese and dough suspiciously. "What, no veggies?"

"No, no rabbit food. This is your basic comfort food, cheese and meat, with a little bit of bread." He took a big bite as Sandburg finally got it. 

"Thanks, man. A strange way to make me feel better, hardening my arteries, but at least I know you care." He gave Jim a grin.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes then Jim asked, "What kind of auction? One of those antique things like they're always showing on the Home and Garden channel?"

That got a laugh out of Blair. "You actually watch that show?"

Jim studied his pizza. "Only when it's three am and the only thing on the sports channel is soccer."

Blair laughed again, shaking his head. "Only you, Jim, only you. And no, it's not an antique auction. It's a horse auction. There's a Dutch warm-blood on the block tomorrow Tracy really wants. She asked me to go along, so I'm going. It should be fun."

Jim shrugged in response. Wandering around a barn looking at horses all day wasn't his idea of fun, but whatever floated Sandburg's boat. It was the weekend, and weekends were for forgetting what went on the rest of the week. He knew they needed to talk about what Blair was going to do, but it could wait. Simon probably should be in on the discussion, too, which automatically moved it up to Monday. With that decided, Jim reached for another piece of pizza. "So what do you wanna do tonight? I could run down to the video store and rent Shanghai Noon."

"Sounds good," Blair agreed, and Jim knew Blair was just as willing to delay their serious discussion as he was.

* * *

Blair was waiting outside the loft when Tracy pulled up in her dually with the two-horse trailer attached. He climbed in, grinning at her. "Optimistic, aren't we?"

Tracy smiled back, her brown eyes twinkling. "Just a little. Piper Creek will be mine if the bidding doesn't go over $30,000. That's my limit."

He let out a low whistle as she put the truck in gear and pulled out into the light traffic. "Hard to imagine a show horse being worth that amount of money. A race horse, yeah, I know they can be worth millions, but a jumper?"

"Just like everything else, the standards have been raised. If you want to compete with the big boys, you have to have the big name horse, a European warm-blood. Used to be you could take any old horse and turn him into a champion. Ever see that Disney movie, The Horse with the Flying Tail?"

"Maybe, a long time ago as a kid. Wasn't it about some army horse who won the Olympics or something?" 

"Yeah. A Cinderella story. Not so many of those anymore." Tracy shook her head. "Kinda takes the romance out of it, but that's the way it is. Better breeding, better training, better riders are what make the sport go round now. That and corporate sponsorship." She changed the subject. "So things any better today?"

Shrugging, Blair looked out the window. "My knee hasn't been miraculously healed, if that's what you're asking." He felt her fingers close around his hand where it rested on the bench seat.

"That's not what I asked, Blair. I want to know if you're okay with what the doctor told you."

He looked back at her, touched. "Yeah, I'm okay. Not wonderful, not jumping for joy, and definitely floundering about what I'm going to do, but I'm not drowning anymore."

She squeezed his fingers then let go. "Good. You feel like you need a lifeline again, you just holler. Now you ready to look at some horses?"

Blair's answer was a smile.

* * *

Three hours later, Blair was beginning to wish he'd brought his cane along with him. Traipsing through what seemed like miles of barn aisles was beginning to take its toll on him. Tracy noticed his discomfort. "You need to take a breather?"

For a moment, he thought about lying, but then nodded his head. "Yeah, I think I'll stand right here for a few minutes."

"Okay, I'll be right back." 

Blair smiled as he watched her walk away, and he had to ask himself what he was waiting for. She was smart, and attractive, with golden brown eyes and short ash blond hair. She had a confident air about her that never faded even under the most trying circumstances, and she sat a horse like she was a part of it. When they had met, Blair had been doing what was second nature to him, flirting, to take his mind off the agony his physical therapist was putting him through. He'd been shocked when she'd given him her phone number and told him to call. He hadn't dated in months, not since the dissertation fiasco and his self-damning press conference. Oh he still talked the talk, but when it came down to it, Blair was afraid. Who would want to date a confessed fraud? 

His knee still aching, Blair sat down on a tack trunk at the side of the aisle, memories replaying in his mind. Tracy hadn't taken his not calling lying down. At their next therapy session, she'd pointedly said, "You didn't call." For about five seconds, he'd felt all of two inches tall, and then she'd eased the sting of her words with a dazzling smile and a comment about how lousy the phone service was in Cascade, since her phone hadn't rung once in three days. Blair found himself having lunch with her, and she managed to get the whole disgraced anthropologist turned Cascade cop story out of him in one afternoon. He'd waited for her to get up and leave, to say thanks, but no thanks, but it hadn't happened. Instead, she'd invited him out to her stables to go riding with her, providing his physician gave his okay. And then she'd pushed him until he'd asked his doctor, and then pushed him again until he finally showed up one June afternoon. 

She'd put him on an old school horse and coached him a little bit in the inside arena, until his body started to remember what it was supposed to be doing on a horse. They'd gone for a short trail ride then, and to Blair's amazement, his knee hadn't hurt a bit. Not during, not after. Every other muscle in his body was another story. But after a few days rest, Blair was ready to try it again, and it didn't hurt that riding meant spending time with Tracy. Since Blair had been on medical leave from the department, they'd spent damn near all summer together, at least when she'd been in town and not on the road showing her horses. 

So what was he waiting for, Blair asked himself again. Ever since that first lunch, there'd been a kind of unspoken agreement between them, that they weren't dating, they were just friends. Blair could hardly blame her. He didn't really think of himself as dating material anymore. It was far easier to be friends than it was to think about everything that went with crossing that line, especially now that his career was once again in jeopardy. 

Closing his eyes, Blair leaned his head back against the wall. Working a desk job at the PD would be--emotional suicide. He would slowly shrivel up and die inside if he couldn't be out in the field, be active, be in the middle of things. The lack of stimulation would kill his spirit quicker than not being partnered with Jim any longer. He had a little money saved up, a few dollars he'd been hoarding from the student loan people. He could take some time and explore some options. He began making a mental list. Anthropology was out, so was police work. Trucking and welding had been nice for summer jobs, but he wouldn't want to make a career out of them. Computers, maybe?

Hot air blew in his ear and something nibbled at his hair. "Augh!" Blair leapt to his feet and turned around to find a large bay head stretching over the half-open door of the stall next to him. Snorting, the horse shook his head, spraying Blair with slobber. "Oh, gross. And in my hair!" He reached up to wipe at the damp strands as the horse whickered at him softly, his large brown eyes seeming to regard his mobile snack curiously. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Blair stepped closer to the stall, holding out his hand palm down and fingers curled for the equine to sniff. The horse inhaled his scent, then leaned out of the stall further, butting his forehead against Blair's shoulder. "What?" Blair asked, his hands automatically coming up to scratch at the base of the sensitive ears. The animal whinnied quietly again, and Blair felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. 

He took a step backwards, his hand closing around the halter, holding the horse still. Dark bay, almost black, no face markings--he leaned over the stall door--no white socks. Blair looked the horse in the eye again. "Stogie?" The animal pushed at Blair's chest with his nose. 

The number stuck on the stall door was 158. Blair pulled the auction list from his back pocket and looked up lot number 158. Six-year-old thoroughbred gelding. Little Stogie. There was a list of his wins, and the names of his sire and dam. Folding the program, Blair stuck it back in his pocket. "It is you. Wonder why Simon's selling you?" The bay nudged him, and Blair rubbed the broad forehead under the thick, dark forelock.

"Hey, looks like you made a friend."

Blair glanced up to see Tracy striding toward him. "More like found an old one. This is Little Stogie. Captain Banks owns him, but I guess now he's selling him. He's a racehorse."

Tracy peered at the gelding over the door as she gave his neck a pat. "Well, let's see him." She motioned to one of the auction employees, and he walked over to the stall. Clipping a lead rope to the horse's halter, he led him out in the aisle. Blair watched Tracy circle Stogie, studying his conformation. "He's put together well. A little on the small side, though. Can you walk him to the cross aisle and then back?" 

Pulling Blair out into the middle of the aisle with her, she pointed at Stogie. "Watch him when he comes back." Blair did as she asked, noticing that the bay bobbed his head slightly when his left forefoot touched the ground. 

"He's lame," he said quietly.

Tracy nodded. "Probably have him on bute and painkillers, but it's not enough to mask it to the trained eye." The groom stopped the horse in front of her. Crouching, Tracy ran her hand down his leg. "Feel this."

Bending over, Blair put his hand on the bay's tendon. It felt slightly puffy and warm. When he straightened up, Tracy told the groom he could put Stogie away. She waited until the man walked off before she spoke again. "That's why he's being sold." The disgust in her voice was plain. "They can't dope him up enough to run anymore. And if a working-class racehorse can't run, he's not paying for his keep."

Stogie stuck his head over the stall door again, and Blair moved to stand next to him, stroking the velvety nose. "So what's going to happen to him?" He had some ideas and none of them were very pleasant.

Tracy shrugged lightly. "If he's sold, it'll either be to someone who figures they can find the right combination of drugs for him to run a couple races, or to the knacker."

Closing his eyes, Blair felt sick to his stomach. "Is there any chance he could get better?"

Her touch was light on his shoulder. "Possibly, with time and rest and good medical attention. But no one here is going to give him that. They all want horses that are fit and ready to perform, not some washed up racehorse."

Blair leaned his head against Stogie's neck. He couldn't believe Simon would do this to the horse, not after he'd helped Jim capture the murderer at the racetrack. He made up his mind. Turning to look at Tracy, he said, "I have some money. Maybe it'll be enough if no one else wants him." He watched the anger fade from her eyes, replaced by an incredible tenderness.

"You'll need somewhere to keep him. And feed and vet bills and...."

"I know, I know. I was kind of hoping you could help me out in that area." His smile felt weak, instead of the disarming grin he was aiming for. 

She hooked her arm through his, giving his hand a squeeze. "Well, there is something you could help me out with in return for room and board for him."

"What?"

"Peter's quitting to start his own stable, and I'm going to need a new barn manager and training assistant. The hours are long, and the pay is just okay, but you can pamper Stogie to your heart's content." 

"Tracy, I--are you sure? I mean I don't really have much of a background with horses other than the summers I spent on my uncle's ranch when I was a kid."

"When Peter told me he was leaving, you were the first person I thought of to replace him. You have the most important qualification for the job." 

Blair was surprised. "Really? What?"

She smiled, but her gaze was serious. "You care."

"Oh," was the only reply Blair could think of to that.

"Come on, you don't have to decide now. Let's go see if you can get the horse first." She started to drag him toward the arena where the auction was being held.

Blair stumbled slightly as they walked away and, as he steadied himself on her arm, he glanced down. The dull gleam of metal caught his eye. "Wait up a sec." Bending over, he picked up a coin.

"What is it?" Tracy asked.

"Nothing. It's just an old penny." He made to toss it away, but she stopped him.

"No, don't! Don't you remember that old saying? See a penny, pick it up--"

"All day you will have good luck. So what?"

Putting her hand on his, Tracy closed his fingers around the coin. "Make a wish."

"You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head. "When I was little and found a penny, my mom would tell me it was a magic penny. Anyone who found one got to make a wish. So make a wish."

Sighing Blair closed his eyes and silently made a wish. "There, are you happy now?" At her nod, he shoved the penny in his pocket and followed her out of the barn.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they returned to Tracy's and got the horses unloaded and settled in their new home. Tracy had managed to get her coveted jumper, and Blair had turned out to be the only bidder on Little Stogie. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that Tracy had circulated through the crowd of bidders, passing the word to people she knew. However it had happened, Blair was now a horse owner, and his savings account was empty. Jim was going to kill him.

He leaned over the stall door, watching Stogie explore his new surroundings, sniffing and snorting at each corner of the large stall. "This is your new home, Stogie." He sighed. "I'm gonna have to change your name though. Stogie just sounds so...so..."

"Dirty?" Tracy walked up to stand beside him. 

Blair shook his head. "No, not dirty, just not...noble. I mean, look at him, he's got that, what do they call it in those books? The look of the eagles."

Stogie chose that moment to turn round, dropping ungracefully to the ground, and proceeding to roll in the thick sawdust. Getting to his feet, he shook himself, raising a choking cloud of dust. 

Tracy burst out laughing. "Look of the eagles, huh? Maybe Stogie, a dirty, smelly cigar, is appropriate after all!"

Blair couldn't help but laugh with her. "Maybe you're right, but I'm gonna change it anyway. Just as soon as I come up with something better." The bay stuck his head over the stall door, and Blair fed him a carrot he'd swiped from the refrigerator in the tack room. 

Blair felt Tracy's arms encircle his waist from behind as she gave him a tight hug. When she loosened it a bit, Blair turned around to face her. She'd never hugged him before. "What brought that on?"

She shrugged. "You. I think you've smiled and laughed more today than any other time I've been with you. All of a sudden you seem excited by your life, by what tomorrow will bring, instead of resigned to it." Her voice lowered. "It's very becoming on you."

She took a step forward, and Blair found himself pinned against the barn wall. Her lips met his, tenderly at first, then her tongue was tasting his, her hands moving down his back to grip his ass, pulling him against her. When she finally broke the kiss, he shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to calm the raging fire she'd started. "Wow! Where did that come from?"

She moved back a little, giving him some space, flushing slightly. "I finally got tired of waiting for you to make the first move. I really like you, Blair, and I really want to take our relationship further." When he didn't answer right away, she stepped back some more, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Unless, I'm totally, totally reading this wrong, in which case, I would appreciate it if you forget that just happened, and we can go back to being just friends."

Pushing off the wall, Blair took her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across her cheeks. "Oh, god, Tracy, I..." For once in his life he was at a loss for words, and finally settled for a gentle kiss as a way to express his feelings.

When they parted, she whispered, "Stay with me tonight."

Blair kissed her cheek, holding her close. "I want to Tracy, but I can't. Not tonight." He met her gaze. "I'm supposed to go to the Jags game with Jim and Simon. And I need to tell them I'm not staying on the force. You understand, don't you? I do want this, I really do, but there are some things I have to take care of first."

She nodded. "I understand." Breaking away from him, she took his hand. "Come on, I'll drive you home." 

Blair gave Stogie one last pat before they headed out of the barn. "You sure he'll be okay tonight?"

"He'll be fine. You can come over in the morning to check on him. We can have breakfast--in bed."

Laughing, he gave her a squeeze. "I like the way your mind works."

* * *

Jim paced the interior of the loft, pausing to glance at the clock on the VCR. Damn it, they were going to be late. 

"Jim, would you sit down? You're making me nervous. Sandburg promised he'd be here, so he'll be here, " Simon said from his sprawled position in the armchair.

The sound of keys jangling outside the loft was loud enough for both of them to hear. Jim pounced on the door, opening it wide before Blair had a chance to fit his key to the lock. 

Blair stumbled back in surprise. "Whoa! Jim! Give a guy a heart attack!"

He entered the room as Jim asked, "Where in the hell have you been all afternoon?"

Shrugging out of his jacket, Blair hung it on the peg by the door before he spoke. "I told you. Tracy and I went to that auction." A flicker of emotion crossed his face. Anger, sadness, disgust? Jim couldn't tell, and in an eye blink, it was gone. "Then we had to go back to her place and get her new horse settled in." He glanced at his watch. "It'll take me five minutes to take a shower, and then we can get going, okay?"  
Hustling into his room, he returned a few moments later with an armload of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started up.

Jim felt Simon's gaze on him. "What?"

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, why would there be?"

Getting to his feet, Banks walked toward the kitchen. "Sounded like the third degree to me. You have a problem with this Tracy person?"

Shrugging, Jim got two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed one to his captain. "No, not really. She's okay, and, well, I'm not sure Blair would have made it though this without her. He was really depressed after the second operation. She gave him something else to think about."

Popping the top on the water, Simon took a swig. "Which reminds me, wasn't Sandburg supposed to see the police physician yesterday?"

Jim bristled. "Yeah, so?"

"So what were the results?"

Jim busied himself with straightening the dish drainer. "The report will be on your desk Monday morning. I figured we could all discuss it then. I'd like us just to have a good time tonight, if that's all right with you, sir."

"That bad, huh?" Simon waved away any reply from Jim. "No, you're right. I won't bring it up unless Sandburg does, okay?"

"Okay." As the conversation finished, Blair emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a checked flannel shirt over a tee, his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He disappeared into his bedroom once more and returned with his cane hooked over his arm.

At Simon's raised eyebrow, he said, "I've been on my feet all day, and I know our seats aren't on the floor." Grabbing his coat, he opened the front door. "I thought you guys were in a hurry?"

Turning off the lights, Jim and Simon followed Blair out.

* * *

Blair spun his cane in his hands, his eyes on it instead of the half-time show. Jim had volunteered to go for beer and munchies, and Blair was now alone with Simon. He'd felt the captain's gaze on him all evening, and he knew he hadn't been very good company. His knee ached, and the more he thought about that morning at the auction, the madder he became. But it wasn't any of his business, and things had turned out all right for Stogie. God knew Blair was never going to let him be sold for dog food, or dope him up to get him to perform. 

"So, Blair, how have things been with you?" Simon asked, leaning over Jim's empty seat between them. "We've missed you down at the station."

Blair's fingers tightened around the shaft of the cane, stopping it mid twirl. "Look, Simon, I don't know what Jim told you--"

"Jim hasn't told me a thing, not even when I asked. All he said was it could wait until Monday."

The younger man shook his head. "No, I want to get this settled now." He looked up, his blue eyes meeting Simon's brown ones. "They aren't going to clear me for field duty. If I came back to the PD, it would be at a desk job, not as Jim's partner. You'll have my resignation on your desk first thing Monday morning."

"I'm not going to accept it, Blair. There has to be something we can work out. I'll pull some strings, make sure you stay in Major Crimes--"

Blair shook his head, his ponytail flying. "No, Simon. What are you going to do, fire Rhonda? You don't need another secretary. And don't give me that consultant crap either. Why should the PD go for that? They can get me cheaper riding a desk than as outside help. Hell, I don't even have the qualifications to be considered for a consultant position. I'm missing those three letters after my name." He couldn't believe how bitter he sounded, yet it felt good to finally say the words.

"Blair, son, you're an integral part of the team, and we look after our own. We'll take care of you." Simon's hand came to rest on Blair's arm.

With a look of disgust, Blair shrugged it off, the sight of Stogie limping down the barn aisle coming vividly to mind. "Like you took care of Little Stogie?" he spat out, realizing the other man would think he was insane, but Blair didn't care.

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Your racehorse, Little Stogie, remember him? Jim gave him his Policeman of the Year award. What happened to him, Simon? I was at the horse auction today. I saw him; he was for sale."

Captain Banks shook his head, clearly confused by Blair changing the subject. "He's a horse, Sandburg. When racehorses quit winning, they get sold. That's just how it is. I couldn't afford to keep him anymore."

Blair rose to his feet, white-hot anger flowing through him. It was a tremendous effort to keep his voice steady. He couldn't control the volume. "He was lame, Simon! Worked into the ground, pumped full of goddamn drugs so he wouldn't limp on the way to the auction block! If that's how you take care of *one of your own*, I don't want any part of it!" Moving out into the aisle, Blair began descending the steps.

"Sandburg, where are you going?" Banks called after him.

Blair paused at a landing, leaning on his cane, and looked back. "To be with the rest of the horses. They don't give a damn whether I limp or not." Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he disappeared into the tunnel under the stands.

* * *

Jim found Simon sitting by himself when he returned with a tray of beer and hot dogs. Taking his seat, he asked, "Where'd Sandburg go?"

Simon let out with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not really sure. We were talking about what he's going to do since the PD doctor won't let him go back out in the field." He made a placating gesture as Jim glared at him. "I didn't bring it up, he did. He's quitting the force, Jim."

The detective took a long swallow of his beer. "Shit. I was afraid of that. We'll just have to talk him out of it, that's all."

The captain shook his head. "I don't think it's going to be that easy. I tried to let him know that we still valued his contributions, that I'd do everything I could to keep him in Major Crime."

Something in Simon's tone made Jim uneasy. "And?"

The other man shrugged. "And he kind of went off the deep end. All of a sudden he was talking about my selling Little Stogie--"

"You sold Little Stogie?"

Banks sighed again. "Yes, I sold him. He was eating me out of house and home. Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?"

"Yeah, go on, " Jim said around a mouthful of chilidog.

"Sandburg got up, yelled at me about Little Stogie, then said he was going to be with the horses. I'm really worried about him. He wasn't making any sense at all."

Jim pondered as he chewed. "I think he's just gone to see Tracy. She has horses. I'm sure he'll cool off and come to his senses."

Picking up his beer, Banks replied, "I hope so."

* * *

Blair paid the cabby and got out of the taxi into the rain. By the time he got the barn door open and slipped into the darkened stable, he was quite damp. Cursing under his breath, he made his way by the glow of the single overhead lamp down the aisle to Stogie's stall. His fingers fumbled for the switch to the light in the horse's stall, then turned it on. The bay was standing in the middle of the box, his left forefoot held slightly off the ground. 

"Aw, damn it," Blair muttered. They'd been afraid of that. Not knowing what kind of drugs he'd been given, he and Tracy had decided not to give Stogie anything for his leg, choosing instead to let whatever he was on work its way out of his system. Once the vet was out to look at him on Monday, they would decide on a course of treatment. But even to Blair's semi-trained eye it was easy to see the animal was in pain. 

Setting aside his cane and opening the stall door, Blair entered, patting the gelding on the neck before running his hand lightly down the horse's leg. The tendon was hot and very puffy now, compared to what it had been earlier. Clipping a lead shank to Stogie's halter, he coaxed him out of his box and down the corridor to the wash stall. Turning on the lights, Blair led the horse inside and attached the crossties to his halter. Picking up the hose, Blair turned the water on, adjusting the temperature until it was cool, but not cold. Approaching the bay, he stroked the horse's shoulder as he turned the gently running stream of water on the injured leg. Stogie let out a long sigh, and Blair could feel the tension go out of the muscle under his hand. 

"Yeah, I'll bet that feels a lot better, doesn't it, boy?" He ran the water on him for nearly half an hour while stroking and talking to the horse. By the time he was finishing up, Stogie's head was dipping, and his eyes were half-closed. Shutting off the water, Blair toweled the animal's leg off, noting that while still swollen, the heat had gone down. Fetching an elastic bandage from the tack room, Blair carefully wrapped the injured limb, making sure the bandage wasn't too tight. When he was done, he led the bay back to his stall. 

Stogie entered, then turned around, sticking his neck over the stall door, nuzzling Blair's shirt. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. You want a treat." He left the horse for a moment, then returned with an apple he'd gotten from the stock in the tack room refrigerator. Reaching in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife, he heard something drop to the ground as he pulled it out. Looking down, Blair saw the penny he'd found that morning. Picking it up, he looked at it, then at the bay eagerly awaiting his treat. "How about Magic for a new name, Stogie? Magic Penny." The horse nodded his head in agreement, but Blair had his suspicions he was just trying to make Blair hurry up with his apple. Cutting the apple into quarters, he fed them to Magic, scratching his forehead as the animal chewed and dripped apple juice on his shirt.

Blair heard the door to the barn open and close, so it wasn't a big surprise when Tracy's voice said, "Looks like you've been bit."

Feeding Magic the last piece of apple, he turned toward her, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What?"

Tracy walked up, stroking the bay's cheek. "Bit by the horse bug. You have it bad, my friend. And I hate to tell you, there is no cure."

"So you're telling me I've got a terminal case?" Blair grinned at her.

"Yep." She looked down at the bandage on the horse's leg. "I was just coming to check on him when I saw the lights on. What are you doing out here anyway? I thought we agreed on tomorrow morning."

Sighing, Blair replied, "It's a long story. Magic was in pain when I got here, so I ran some water on his leg and bandaged it. I wish horses were like humans and I could just tell him to lie down and keep the weight off of it."

Tracy laughed lightly, as the bay pulled his head back into the stall, and with a few grunts and snorts, laid down on his side in the sawdust. "Maybe you can talk to horses. Come on, he'll be fine, and I want to hear this _long_ story that brought you out here in this weather." Slipping her arm through his as he picked up his cane, she led Blair a couple doors down and into the tack room. The name was kind of a misnomer; one end of the room did hold saddles and bridles and other equipment, but the rest served as the stable's office. There was a desk, an ancient leather sofa, and a couple of worn armchairs. One corner was a small kitchen, with a full size refrigerator, microwave, and sink. 

Tracy gave Blair a push in the direction of the couch. "Sit. You want some coffee? Or I've got tea."

"Tea sounds good." He dropped onto the cushions with a sigh, wincing. He'd way overdone it today, and his knee was letting him know loudly. He watched as Tracy got out two mugs, filled them with water, and stuck them in the microwave. A couple minutes later, she was handing him a warm mug, and taking a seat next to him.

"So what's with 'Magic'? You find a new name for him already?"

Blair sipped at his tea. It was nice, a really mellow blend, and he wondered if it would end up putting him to sleep. "Yeah, I named him after your magic penny."

"Magic Penny. I like it. It's unique and stands out. Much better than calling him a cigar. After all, there's only one Cigar, and even though I never saw Little Stogie run, I doubt he could hold a candle to him."

Nodding, Blair agreed with her, knowing she was talking about the all-time money-winning thoroughbred, and not rolled tobacco. "No, they were a world apart."

They drank their tea in silence for a while, and Blair simply enjoyed being in her presence. It was just--comfortable--being with her. Nothing was expected of him, nothing riding on him, or his knee. It was nice not to feel like he was disappointing someone by just existing.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" Tracy coaxed gently.

Blair set his nearly empty cup on the trunk that served as an end table, then rubbed unconsciously at his left knee. "Just feeling sorry for myself, I guess. I told Simon, that's Captain Banks, I was quitting the force. He tried to tell me he'd find some way to keep me with Major Crime, with Jim, but..." He shrugged. "It's just hard for me to believe things have worked out this way. I mean, I thought I'd finally found my place, my calling, in life."

"You've told me that before, that being Jim's partner was important enough to you for you to give up everything else." Her gaze traveled down to where his fingers were worrying at his jeans. "Your knee hurt?" Swallowing, Blair nodded. She smiled at him. "Think you can get out of those jeans?"

His eyes widened, but he did as she asked, unfastening his pants and standing to slide them down, then resuming his seat. "Nice boxers," she commented at his blue plaid shorts as she got to her feet. Pulling over a tack trunk, Tracy sat down on it in front of him, then reached for his leg, laying it across her lap. She began to rub his tight, aching muscles. "So now you feel you don't have a place anymore?"

Blair leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I don't know. I was just so sure, you know? That I had it right, after so many years of getting it wrong, that I was supposed to be with Jim. And now, all because of a stupid accident, everything's changed. I can't be his partner anymore, not the way he needs me to be."

Digging her fingers deeper into his muscles, Tracy looked up at him. "I know you're familiar with the concept of karma, right?"

He laughed lightly. "Oh, yeah, Mom made sure of that. So what?"

"So what if this," she waved her hand at his knee, "is karma? Is fate? That in the big picture this was supposed to happen?"

Blair shook his head vehemently, and nearly pulled his leg from her grasp. "No! I refuse to believe that! Jim and I are--we're closer than brothers. I have to be with him. I have to be his partner."

"Think about it, Blair. It makes sense when you look at it that way. Think of all the things that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been hurt. You wouldn't have met me--" 

He stared at her. "You have some ego, lady--"

"No! I don't mean it like that. I mean, if you hadn't met me, you wouldn't have been there this morning to save Magic. Yes, I know he's just a horse, but I've found that in the grand scheme of life, it's the little pieces that are important. It's how we treat those without a voice that gives us our humanity." 

Blair worried his lip with his teeth, not sure that he believed Magic was more important than Jim, more important than a Sentinel. "Tracy, I don't know. I just--how can this be right? How could fate take me away from Jim?"

Her hands stilled on his knee. "What if it isn't your karma, Blair? What if it's Jim's?"

His brow furrowed and he could feel the beginning of a headache behind his eyes. He didn't want to go there, he really didn't want to...but her soft voice continued, as gentle as her hands had been on his leg. "I'm sure you know that old saying, 'when the student is ready, the teacher will appear '?" At his slow nod, she went on, "What if Jim needs to learn something you can't teach him? What if in order for that to happen, this has to happen to you?" She ran her fingers lightly over his still pink surgery scars, and it was all Blair could do to hold back his tears. Jim needed him; he'd said so himself, after the press conference. He really, really didn't want to go to this place, where he was pushed aside in favor of someone else, someone who wasn't crippled. 

"No! It can't be like that! Jim needs me! I'm his partner, his gui--" Fuck! He'd almost blurted it out, almost revealed what he'd paid so dearly to protect. Dropping his foot to the floor, he yanked his jeans up. "I'm sorry. I'm in a really foul mood tonight, and I'm taking it out on you."

Tracy rose slowly, her gaze never wavering from his. "His guide. That's what you were going to say. His guide." There was no accusation in her words, no shock, no surprise, just a plain, unadorned statement of fact.

"No, I--" The words wouldn't come. He couldn't deny it again. He felt her hands on his shoulders, pushing him gently back down on the sofa, her fingers closing around his as she took a seat next to him.

"Blair," she began softly, "when I first met you, I was instantly attracted to you. And I couldn't understand why you didn't call when I gave you my number, after you'd expended all that effort to get it. Then once we did get together, you told me about being a fraud, about lying on your dissertation. Part of me accepted that then. You'd made a mistake, and paid for it. You were sorry about it. I could understand that. I've done shit in my life I'm not proud of either. But then I got to know you, and I began to realize there's no way you would have written a fraudulent paper. You have integrity, and so does Jim. If you'd really lied about him, you wouldn't still be living with him, be his partner on the police force. He wouldn't stand for it. And for someone who coldly and meticulously made up years worth of data with no thought as to using it for anything besides falsely getting a degree, you seemed genuinely repentant, something I don't think a real fraud would care about faking."

Blair looked away from her, trying to keep himself together. She knows. Oh, god, she knows. He could feel his heart racing, and all he could think about was getting out of there. But he couldn't move.

She squeezed his hand. "I think the real lie was that press conference. I think you did the only thing you could think of at the time to save your friend."

He swallowed. She knew. "Tracy, please, you can't tell anyone this. No one can know about Jim."

The hand not holding his came up to curve gently along his cheek. "I don't give a rat's ass about Jim. He could fly for all I care. It's **you** I care about. I see you hurting so much, and I just want to take you in my arms and make it all go away." 

Blair opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, a low, strangled sob escaped him. Then she was pulling him close, holding him tightly as he quietly fell apart, crying against her shoulder. She didn't let go while he slowly picked up the pieces and put himself back together some time later. When he could finally speak, the first words out of his mouth were "I'm sorry."

Smiling softly, she shook her head at him, her fingertips brushing the last of the wetness from his cheeks. "Nothing to apologize about, Blair. I'm your friend. This is what I'm here for."

Blair almost lost it again. "Oh, god, Tracy. I can't--you don't know how much that means to me. I--I feel like I've spent the last year being afraid, of hiding from the world. Jim and I, we were okay. I was okay, you know, in my nice little bubble, but anything outside of that...was terrifying. I can't believe I let you get so close, and I can't believe when you found out about me you didn't run in the other direction. And now I cry all over you...I just--you are amazing."

Grinning, she said, "Well, I like to think so." Leaning in, she kissed his mouth softly, then said, "It's getting late. You want me to drive you home? I'd really like you to stay, though."

He thought about it for a moment. Things were moving really fast, maybe too fast, but part of him felt like they were making up for lost time, for all the months he'd been afraid of this, of getting too close. Now he felt free of the prison he'd created for himself. "I'd like to stay," he finally answered. 

She smiled at him. "Good." Getting to her feet, she crossed the room to look out the window. "It's still raining. We're going to get soaked on the way to the house. Unless--" She grabbed a couple of blankets from a shelf. "Think you can make it up a ladder?"

Picking up his cane, Blair levered himself to his feet. "Yeah, I think so. Why?" 

Tracy gave him another smile. "Come on. You'll see."

Blair followed her out into the barn, then about halfway down the aisle. She stopped under the ladder to the hayloft. Telling him to wait, she scrambled up, the blankets thrown over her shoulder. A minute later, her head appeared at the top of the ladder. "Okay, come on up."

Propping his cane against the wall, Blair ascended the rungs, grateful for the hand she reached down as he got close to the top. Pulling him over the edge of the loft, she helped him to his feet, then led him a couple paces away to where she'd laid the blankets down over a pile of loose hay. She helped him sit, then dropped down beside him. "You wanna sleep up here?" he asked.

Stretching out on her side, Tracy rested her head in her hand. "I kind of had something else in mind, but yeah, I've slept up here before. Not in a long time, though. Usually I'm on a cot outside a sick horse's stall." Her fingers wrapped around his arm, and she gently tugged him down to lie beside her. "I used to love coming up here as a kid, especially when it was raining. The sound of the raindrops on the roof is so cool."

Pulling the tie out of his hair, Blair folded his arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The loft was cozy and warm, lit dimly by the lamplight from the aisle, and the noise of the rain blocked out all but the loudest of sounds from below. Tracy rolled over onto her stomach, her eyes shining in the darkness as she gazed at him. He knew what she wanted. He wanted it too, he thought, but it had been so damn long, and he felt like he didn't know where to begin.

Leaning over him, Tracy kissed his forehead. When he didn't protest, she continued, her kisses soft as butterfly's wings against his temple, his eyelids, his cheeks, and finally his mouth. He kissed back then, weaving his fingers through her short hair. Breaking the kiss to draw in a long breath, he said, "Tracy, I--"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, shaking her head. "Let me. In all the time I've known you, all I've ever seen you do is give, of yourself, your time, and your heart. For once, let me give back to you. All you have to do is enjoy." She smiled at him, then her mouth was again covering his face and neck with gentle kisses. Tracy's hands relieved him of his clothing, helping him out of his flannel shirt, his tee quickly following. Her fingers traced aimless patterns over his bare skin, her feather-like touch sending tendrils of sensual electricity racing from his chest to center in his groin. 

Blair moaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into the fabric of the blanket as her trail of kisses descended down his body. She took her time, licking and nipping at his warm, smooth skin, tugging lightly at his short, soft chest hairs. Closing his eyes, he shivered at the sensations flooding his nerve endings. 

"You cold?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him. 

"Noooo..." he groaned, his hands clutching her shoulders convulsively. 

Rising up on her knees, Tracy licked her lips. "I know just how to warm you up." She pulled her sweater over her head and off, followed by her bra. "Body heat." Her nimble fingers quickly had his shoes off, his jeans unfastened and sliding over his hips along with his boxers. The rest of her clothes disappeared just as rapidly, and she threw a leg over his hips, straddling him. 

Blair gazed up at her, reminded of all the times he'd watched her on horseback, moving as one with her steed, guiding it through its paces. Sometimes he'd found it to be incredibly erotic, and more than once he'd wondered what it would be like to be her horse. He felt her weight settle on him, and he bucked his hips upward, giggling. 

Tracy grabbed hold of his forearms for support. "What?" He whinnied. She laughed and patted his chest. "Ah, you wanna go for a ride, boy?" At his nod, she leaned over, nuzzling his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "I'll take you on a ride you won't forget." 

Blair wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer, feeling suddenly silly and giddy. "Ride me hard, baby; put me away wet." 

She kissed his grin. "Oh, I will." Blair kissed her back, and lost himself in her, his problems forgotten.


End file.
